


hicran.

by orphan_account



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Blood, F/F, F/M, Gore, LT: it's all in lowercase, Racism, also the first few chaps will be short but that's bc it needs to build up and it will most definetly, lowercase threading, original female character(s) of color - Freeform, slow buildup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7874488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there's no rest in the kingdom, especially if the king has yet to take his throne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably going to be a small thing, but i’ve been tired and sad and while catching up on tokyo ghoul re i got some ideas.

                                                                                                                                      hicran ;  


                                                                          a deep feeling of sorrow and grief that comes from being separated with one’s beloved or place

her braids ( twists )  sloppily fall into place. they stretch like fingers ‘pon the small table, a beckoning black river of twists strewn on a beige-colored coffee table. floret lily-fingers grasp a lukewarm porcelain mug, and with the small packet of sugar she was home.

home, in her own little world. to say home as the one that deemed private and respectable was ridiculous, since this was a cafe and as not as busy as it was. it held it’s own little peace to nestle and simmer the anxiety that bubbled everyday being in the foreign country. the odds were little, and it was bound to happen yet rush was equally shared as having your small room in new york ripped apart and suddenly in the middle of an airplane looking scared out and lost only to be in the back of a cafe clutched up with your guitar by your side.

the rush of that was not happy.

she knew good japanese, good enough to pass and live on and not stutter despite having needing a second to register any sign of conversation before replying. she had also snagged a nice small cozy apartment with a landlord who seemed iffy to allow a black girl into his rooms ( yet he obliged after a bit of scowling and small vent ). now other than her partially empty vanilla frangranced room and the library the small coffee shop was another place she felt comfortable at.

not because the place was never too busy; she was a party goer herself, just more calmer to say. and peace was just a good sign of well processed thoughts for her. the staff were quite fine, she knew she irked them with her thicker lips and longer lashes, tanner complexion but she knew it wasn’t meant negatively more side of curious.

and even if they were, they never asked.

because of those few reasons, the cafe: anteiku was a place of knowledge and distress in the ward of nerima. of course, they were more but it was her favorite. and she had also gotten some trust between her and the staff.

enji usually chatted small talk with her, curious about her heritage and her past or her interests. at first reluctantly she told her backstory and because of that she had gained a close companion at the cafe who would secretly lower the prices of her drinks.

_“ why do that? i can pay. ”_

_“ beautiful girls can spend their money on better things. ”_

all was well, and simple for her. and with her sudden enrolling in musashi university. she also had gained some genuinely happy and peaceful friends, as well as knowing one who was into gardening and worked at a garden with their mom. ever since, her drywall crusted room became a painting of color, dripping in a lovely floral aesthetic that she lapped up.  

peace and serenity, she’d say was an ideal of hers.

“ peace and serenity, it flows like divinity. until i’ve had my brink, fill the cup for me. ” she repeats, and with a soft widened eye gasps like a window shut slowly at a chirping bird in the rising of the golden waxed morning and proceeded to scribble down on a her little green notepad. a hum flew out of her pink painted lips, a tap of her finger as she slowly acquired a beat along with it. and before it she was singing in the smallest way possible but enough to pick it up in the usually quiet cafe. she’s in her own little beautiful world with the only colors of pink, green, and white. all pastel and all dark.

she had just made a new song.

“ you have a lovely voice, it must go wonderful with the guitar. ” a feminine voice interrupts her, and she looks up. a young woman with regal mauve such hair and rimmed red glasses stood in front of her. dripped malacity, an anti-saint robed in virgin shed. she’s a gorg in the bud, with her dusted lips and her chimerical delicated eyes looming in content or in study. she couldn’t decide.

she hesitantly smiles, sculpted thick brows rose as she subconsciously grabs the notepad gently. “ thank you, i- i try not to sing much. sorry. ”

the girl waves a hand in a motion, a miniscule action to bypass her insecurities, “ no! no–– your voice is wonderful, sing more please. it does wonders. ” the girl raises her eyebrows almost comically and acted, making her narrow her eyes at her actions. “ i almost forgot–––”

“ rize––– pleasure, _your japanese is very good._ ”

“ tara, thank you.. i try. ( she did ) ”

                                                                                                                                         hicran ;  


                                                                          a deep feeling of sorrow and grief that comes from being separated with one’s beloved or place  



	2. cherophobia

   _how dare you tell the blind man that seeing is believing?_

                                                                                                                            hicran.

_cherophobia; the fear of gaiety, happiness, joyfulness or rejoicing._

 

“ have you heard about the recent ghoul news? ” rize says, cup placed under her chin, creating the symmetrical illusion of the cup tucked there. tara could see the line to which it would divide easily. 

they were cooped in the back of the cafe again, both of them tending to their drinks, one a creamed mixture of green ginger tea and the other black dark coffee. tara once again with her guitar and notepad but her outfit a bit open. she wore bright blue high waisted pencil jeans with the inseam cuffed up, with a white crop tank adorned vertically with shiny small golden lusted buttons. a beige cap with a pineapple centered on it nestled on her braids snugly. rize wore dark sleeved shirt which was under a sundress, her sun hat by her side as a fake flower adorned her hair, along with her glasses and a little touch of makeup ( with red lips; divine ). tara wondered how the flower; sunflower stayed put. 

“ yeah, but i’ve seen––– and _heard_ worse. ” tara leaned into her drink, now sitting criss cross in the green chair. 

“ oh? ”

“ there’s been some incidents when ghouls have done some bad stuff back home, like lock a hospital down and devour clients and staff straight. or reign fear online with silly troll stuff. ” 

rize giggles, it’s almost macabre. and her teeth bared a bit and when the pearly whites grin along with red lipstick it looks like a scene of when eve bites the apple and the snake is watching pleased or curious. tara is intrigued with it.

“ that’s tragic. ”

“ it is indeed. ”

rize takes a long excruciating time to drink the coffee in her hands, and not to say tara was silently studying her but it’s been a good four days since they met, so she started picking up some stems of the woman.  
rize’s painted war-tinctured digits usually tapped in a slow motion and in a slow system going from height when she was thinking of asking her something.  
rize never drank anything else but coffee, and never ate anything either. it was surprising the woman didn’t coffee sweat or have browning teeth, instead graced with pearly whites and a fragrance of crushed mint and grass.

tara didn’t know why however.

rize laughs, “ do you think ghouls have feeling of their own? or maybe just beasts who have no remorse, most tend to think the latter. ” tara huffs looking at her own drink, before downing a bit. a bud of tea rests under her nose until she licks it, prompting rize to chuckle.

“ well, what do you think? ”

“ ah, who cares what i think! ”

_“ then who would care about what i think? ”_

rize winks, “ you got me. ” . “ i think they’re just people with no head, remorseless to even eat a girl. they have no heart. ”

tara stares for a second, before giving a sigh of thought. “ huh. i don’t. ”

rize raises a brow, “ how so? ”

tara never really liked ghoul discussion, it annoyed her and frightened her but it was never because of the ghouls. but because of humanity.

“ they’re the same like humans. they even have most of their looks humanized. they laugh like humans, kiss like humans, dance like humans, eat like humans, some pray like humans–– some don’t. they have morals and some don’t. they kill like humans, and they can love. they can love more than humans. they do horrible things, but haven’t humanity done too? they’re a minority marginalized and never understood because they prey on something they had no choice. ” tara wrote away at her notepad, scribbling a flower with too many petals.

“ some are bad because they want to be, some do it for justice, some are portrayed bad because they want justice, some just don’t care and just live how they want. and as horrible people think it is, that’s exactly what humans do all the time. ”

tara looked up to see rize looking with hungry eyes, or hungry as she could assume. maybe the girl needed a sandwich. “ of course, i know we can’t live in harmony trust me i know it’s never going to be like that. but it would nice to digress that place of harmony not a fake one a genuine one. ”

rize hummed, “ that’d be nice. ” but it doesn’t go with her eyes, like there’s void of ire or just no settled peace at her answer. 

“ it would. ”

 

_cherophobia; the fear of gaiety, happiness, joyfulness or rejoicing._

today she was alone. 

not that she mind, but staying a week with the woman grew on her in a way she didn’t expect. maybe because rize was too pretty, too pretty for a flower. maybe because they had intricate conversations and despite not all interests being the same they still held conversations that desired to be talked about tomorrow. so maybe she did really like rize, even if the rousing suspicion of evil stuck in rize’s jaws like homage. she still felt like the girl was now a part of her whenever she came to the cafe. 

to unwind.

enji had walked over to her table, setting a large macadamia nut cookie beside her tea. a smile on his lips as tara thanked profusely for the treat she had never asked for, and probably wouldn’t finish but it was always a kind gesture. he lowered himself into the seat across from her, raising brows dramatically in which she chuckled.

“ how’s life. ” enji says, shoulders folded as he leaned into his own chair. it was funny, there’s now no hesitant boundaries they both step, it’s like father and daughter to say, but enji wasn’t old. she smiles, her teeth poking out against vermillion colored lips. she pulls a braid away from her face.

“ it’s good. it’s getting less lonely and more bright. ” there’s a ribboned gaiety rested on her shoulders, enji can see it perfectly and he leans forward and pokes her nose making her raise brows just as he did. “ i’m glad to hear that, a pretty girl like you needs that in her life. ”

“ i’ve always had plenty, ” she muses. 

enji nods, “ of course, of course but i was thinking of like relationship wise. ”

_huh.._

“ i’m not really ready for that, enji. ” tara shrugs bangles hitting her face loudly, she broke a piece of the cookie before settling it in her mouth. “ i don’t think i’ll be for a long time. ”

_“ so rize isn’t–– ”_

tara almost leaps from her chair, “ what about rize? what about her? ” enji chuckles, “ i knew you were lying somewhat. ” tara clicks her tongue, “ it’s not like that, besides i’m fine with platonic. ”

enji laughs, “ well some of your admirers could want that as well. ” tara pauses, brows furrowed. “ admirers? ”

“ well the people who sneak glances at you when they walk in. ” enji turns around in his seat, and his finger stretches to the other side of the cafe, where a thin framed black-haired boy was training intensely on glaring before blushing at sudden realization of being caught. his eyes fall to his hands, and enji snorts.

“ like that guy, he stares at you and her almost every day when he walks in. ”

 

_cherophobia; the fear of gaiety, happiness, joyfulness or rejoicing._

**Author's Note:**

> definitely did not base tara’s design ( a little of her look and traits ) of kiana ledé, there’s no way i did that.  
> i just caught up with tokyo ghoul and it was a ride, a little too rushed or maybe that’s because i wasn’t reading it for a bit. also sorry for not continuing breaks atm, a low inspiration and some friend issues gave me some low feelings about it. also too many typos, but dcd will kill me if i try re-reading it.


End file.
